Tell Me What to Do
by djenie
Summary: Missing scene from 'Affinity.' What pushed Sam into accepting Pete's ring? Very angsty! Complete.


**This takes place immediately after the 'engagement ring scene' between Jack and Sam in the episode Affinity. Spoiler for that episode.**

**Also can be read as a sequel to my stories 'Ten Seconds' and 'The Next Ten Seconds.'**

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

**Tell Me What to Do**

At the briefing, they did not look at each other.

Jack's face was a cool mask, his eyes seemingly focused on Daniel who was making his pitch to return to P4Y-428 to investigate the ruins there more closely.

Sam bit her lip and stared at the table top, occasionally glancing up at the images on the screen as the archeologist talked.

Daniel rambled on with his presentation, oblivious of the silence, happy for once not to be interrupted by Jack's snarky remarks.

Teal'c noticed. He saw that O'Neill and ColonelCarter never made eye contact; he saw that while they appeared to be listening to DanielJackson, they were both actually lost in their own thoughts.

Daniel was shocked when Jack approved a follow-up mission without any discussion. The General ordered him to slot it into the schedule, and then he turned and disappeared into his office.

"Is something eating Jack?" Daniel asked, looking at his two teammates. "He didn't have much to say."

Sam had her eyes down and was excessively busy gathering the papers she had brought with her. She merely shrugged at Daniel's question.

"I too noticed that O'Neill was unusually silent," Teal'c said. "He appeared upset about something."

Sam cringed.

In the corridor she headed for the lift with only a brief good-bye. Teal'c turned toward his quarters, but Daniel followed her, talking enthusiastically about the discoveries he hoped to find on 428, and the ease with which Jack had agreed to the mission. He trailed along all the way back to her lab. It was a good twenty minutes before she managed to send him on his way, reminding him that they both had paperwork to do.

It took Sam another forty-five minutes to finish the report she was writing, close down her computers and gather the things she needed to take home. She left her lab and locked the door behind her.

Jack's office door was locked. _Gone for the day, or just hiding? _ She didn't knock. Instead she headed for the control room.

"Where's General O'Neill?" she asked Harriman.

"He left the base nearly an hour ago, Colonel. Said he was going home. He looked tired."

"Who's the duty officer tonight?"

"That'd be Colonel Matheson, ma'am."

"Thanks, sergeant. I'm going home now, too. See you tomorrow."

"Have a good night, Colonel."

She was up in the parking lot before she remembered she'd left the ring sitting on her desk. Well, the lab was locked—it would be safe there, she thought dismissively.

The sun was setting and the air was warm and humid. She drove down the access road slowly and stopped at the highway. Turning left would take her home. Turning right...

Sam turned right. Three blocks later she almost turned around, even went so far as to pull into the parking lot of a restaurant. But after several minutes of indecision, she continued in the direction she was driving.

When she got to his street, she slowed, letting the car coast down the block. In front of his house she pulled to the curb and parked. His truck was not in sight and the house was dark. She sat still, feeling as if the breath had been sucked out of her. She had forced herself to come—and oh, it had taken all the courage she had!—and now he was not home. Leaning her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes. She tried to think, but her mind refused to cooperate. All she got was a confused jumble of images—his hardening expression as he stared at the ring, the back of his neck as he stalked hurriedly out of her lab, the sound of his last words; _I wouldn't be here... I wouldn't be here..._

"Where would you be, Jack?" she murmured out loud. "What did you mean? Did you mean you wish you'd never heard of the Stargate? You wish we'd never met?" That thought filled her head, and she sucked in a sharp breath, believing suddenly that she understood...

_Of course you wish we'd never met! _ _You wish you had your former life back—the wife and son you lost. That's what you meant. If you hadn't lost them, you'd have never been picked for that first mission. You'd never have known about the Stargate. So you'd be at home, with Sara and Charlie... 'I wouldn't be here.' You'd have had the chance to be the father and husband you wanted to be—the chance to see your son grow up... 'I wouldn't be here.'_

She remembered what she had said, the question that had prompted his enigmatic response. "What about you, sir? If things had been different?"

_God—what did __I__ mean when I asked that dumb question? What did I think you would hear? I stupidly thought you would think about me... about us... and what if the rules didn't exist..._

She shook her head in frustration at her own lack of understanding. _I reminded you of everything you've lost. How selfish of me! Thinking that it all revolves around me..._

_But you said always, Jack... that you will always be there for me. _She opened her eyes and stared out into the growing gloom. _You said you loved me, and you promised!_

_And what did you promise in return, Samantha?_ The small inner voice nagged in her ear. _What did you do?_

_I didn't make any promises, I kept quiet and avoided the subject. I said we could keep it 'in the room.' And then I shoved another man's ring in his face! God! No wonder he left the way he did!_

It became darker and darker. The streetlights came on one by one along the block. She thought about leaving, heading for home, but made no move to do so. She wasn't even waiting for him to come home—she simply did not have the will to do anything.

Memories swirled around in her head.

—_A smirk and a grin. "Good. I was afraid you'd never be able to wear that sweet little tank top again."_

—"_No one else has to know sir. We can leave it in this room."_

"_Is that what you want, Carter?"_

_A weak nod, but a nod nonetheless. "Yes, sir."_

—"_I was so afraid, sir. I thought I'd lost you, too." Tears streaking down her cheeks._

_Deep brown eyes meeting hers, hurting as much as she was. "C'mere." Then the comfort of his arms around her._

She didn't know how long she sat there, her mind running through countless scenes and conversations, spoken and unspoken, over the past eight years. The sound of a vehicle approaching a little too fast did not register—not even when the truck braked and pulled into the General's driveway.

She jumped when the passenger door was yanked open, and a voice said roughly, "Carter?" O'Neill loomed in the opening.

"Sir..." She stiffened.

"What th' hell are you doin' here?' he demanded, leaning heavily on the door, one hand braced on the car roof.

"I... I, er..." She could only stutter uselessly.

He clambered into the passenger seat, awkwardly, it seemed, and slammed the door behind him. The odor of alcohol came with him, overwhelming her senses for a moment. She stared toward his silhouette in the dark.

"Well, Carter? Cat gotcha tongue?"

"Sor... sorry, sir... I don't... uh." She tried to gather her thoughts.

"Huh!" He huffed. "I reckon it has. Here kitty, kitty! Gotta give it back. I'm sure th' colonel's got lots t' say. She did earlier—tha's for sure. Where _is_ that blamed cat...?"

Anger and amusement, in equal parts, spiked briefly through Sam, and then both vanished, leaving behind a sort of resigned embarrassment. "Funny, sir," she said quietly. "Any other time, I'd laugh."

He was silent for a while. "So, what're y' doin' here, Carter?"

She heard the slight slur in his speech. He must have had quite a bit to drink in the—she glanced at the dashboard clock—two hours or so since he'd left the mountain. O'Neill could drink beer all night and barely show any effects. Not beer tonight, then, she thought. Something stronger. Which meant he had intended to get drunk. That was her fault, she thought with a clench in her gut. With her stupid attempt to make him talk about his feelings for her, she had reminded him of the life he no longer had. And he had driven home in that condition—she felt a chill at the thought. _He'd always been careful never to drive when he was drinking!_ If something had happened...

"Well, Carter?" He interrupted her thoughts.

"I don't really know why I'm here, sir," she said honestly. "I guess I came to apologize."

"For what?"

"For that... for showing you... expecting you..." She shook her head.

"You sound kinda confused, Sam. You been drinkin'?"

The question made her laugh. "That's funny, coming from you right now."

He grunted. "Yeh—I s'pose..."

"I'm sorry for showing you the ring," she said after a pause. "I don't know what I expected. But I've got no right to... impose on you like that. To ask you to make my decisions for me. I guess I wanted you to tell me what to do."

He said nothing.

"Look, sir. I know we can't talk about it. But it's dark in here and I can't see your face and you can't see mine... I could be talking to myself and an empty passenger seat." She kept her eyes straight ahead, staring through the windshield. "But I wondered what it is that _you _want."

"I want you to be happy."

"Happy?" she asked in a puzzled voice, as if she didn't know the meaning of the word. And then the words came tumbling out; "I'm not happy! Whatever made me think 'normal' would make me happy? God... I've held onto that ring for over a week! I haven't even tried it on my finger! I can't even tell you what it looks like without opening the box. I even forgot it when I left the mountain—I just left it sitting there in my lab! Is that how a woman in love would act? On the other hand—if it were your ring..."

"Carter..." he warned, his voice hoarse.

"Samantha Carter here... just talking to myself in my empty car. Can't see anyone else around. Can't be court martialed for talking to myself, can I?"

He was silent.

"I was happier on a Goa'uld planet being shot at, than I am now, with the prospect of a 'normal' life, with a 'normal' husband, in a 'normal' house." She was making the word sound like a curse. "I was happier locked in Nirrti's prison than I am now. I was going to die, I was terrified, but I was still happier. Do you know why? Because I could rest my head on your shoulder."

Jack closed his eyes, clenched his jaw and remained silent.

She sighed and dropped her head on her chest. "I guess you never talk to yourself, do you, sir? I mean, I don't hear a sound from over there. Maybe it really is an empty passenger seat..."

"All I want is for you to be happy, Sam," he repeated miserably.

"Yeah. You told me. Sorry. Looks like you won't get your wish. Cause I sure as hell don't think I'll be happy with Pete." She twisted in her seat so that she could look at him. Her lips trembled. "If I return the ring do you think you and I could at least go back to being friends? The way we used to be? That's all I'd ask for... honestly. Just the way we used to be..." she pleaded.

Jack dropped his forehead into his palms. "No... I can't..." he whispered. "Don't do that, Carter..." He reached for the door handle and shoved the door open, lurched out of the car. "Go home, Carter. I'm not worth it..." he muttered as he closed the door.

She sat in shock, watching him hurry toward the house. She couldn't believe what she'd heard...

_He'd told her that he couldn't be her friend? He said not to return Pete's ring!_

'Go home,' he'd said. She couldn't make out those last words as he shut the door.

_He didn't want her. Not even as a friend. She should keep the ring. Marry Pete. Even after she told him Pete wouldn't make her happy..._

Sam was crying when she finally started her car and drove away. She didn't see Jack standing outside his front door, watching her go.

She had wanted him to tell her what to do... Well, she had her answer.

Three days later Samantha Carter accepted Pete Shanahan's proposal.


End file.
